In among all the kerfuffle and reorganisation, her missing things had mysteriously turned up on her desk that last morning she had been in the office.

Thinking about it as she drove, she couldn’t work out what had happened, but there had been a handwritten note: Sorry. I was playing pranks on you. I hadn’t realised what was going on in your personal life. Sorry again. I’d hoped you’d realised it was me doing this. She had felt creeped out so she had told Lachy about it.

‘Don’t worry,’ he’d told her, patting her on the shoulder. ‘I’ll look into it.’

Of course, she’d also had to find a house to rent in Barker. Not that it was too hard to decide on one. There weren’t many to choose from. She’d decided as she’d lived by herself for so long now that it didn’t matter how close she was to her family, she still needed a bit of space.

Today she’d driven the well-worn road from Adelaide to Barker and, after visiting Will in hospital, turned her car into an unfamiliar house in a familiar town. A town she never thought she’d end up living in again. Never wanted to end up living in.

When she’d left for boarding school, she’d promised herself she’d never stay for too long in Barker again. There was too much excitement in the outside world. The small, quiet country town didn’t suit her. Her mum had always said her wings were too big to stay and, once she’d become a journo, her job had enabled to her to spread those wings wide.

The trip she’d done with the Farming Telegraph to America to report on cattle feedlots seemed like a lifetime away, when in reality it was only six months ago.

‘It’s not forever,’ she whispered to herself. ‘Just until Mum gets back on her feet.’

Will, by contrast, had never wanted to leave Rowberry Glen. When he’d made the trek to boarding school, twelve months before she had, he’d struggled with city life. He hadn’t liked not having space or freedom. For a boy who had ridden motorbikes and mustered sheep like a man, becoming a student wearing a tie, shorts and long socks, sitting in a classroom without a view, had been a difficult transition. His saving grace had been Zara’s presence, when she started at a boarding school across the city, and footy. He’d lived for the weekend games. As soon as year twelve had finished, he’d pulled on his work boots, put on his hat and headed out the door to the paddocks. He hadn’t shifted since.

Dragging her thoughts back from the past, Zara looked at her new home. She spun around the empty kitchen, looking at the walls that needed a good wash. She moved into the lounge, then walked through the rest of the house. It was cold and smelled musty. Her mother had told her it was the only house they could get on short notice.